


Heroic Legends of Arslan: part 1- 5:  The Abduction

by minkmix



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Abduction, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, M/M, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, h/c, protective daryoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkmix/pseuds/minkmix
Summary: *NOTICE*This fic is all screwed up and out of order. AND missing 3 chapters that were previously up. XD I will get to fixing all that, (when I already thought I had and 3 chaps disappeared.) SO this post lists chapter 2 as 'The Darkness' which is actually Chapter 4.  The rest are missing.  I could spend forever and a day fixing that today (7/23) OR finish some fic for a change. ha.  So no worries, I'll get it to it. Thanks.





	1. The Abduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The crown prince is taken away to serve another Goddess..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Sorry if this has sent a notice of another chapter. I was just putting Part 1 where it belongs. At the beginning. (I had mistakenly posted it backwards.) I've also gone through each part for some editing because this fic is quite old. Again, I apologize for the confusion.  
> -Mink(mix)

Balmy air flowed gently into the dim room, the scent of the ocean on it, warm and humid. Arslan lay out his clothing in in neat piles onto an enormous bed in an embarrassingly extravagant chamber general Kishuwade had given him.

It was easy to forget all the nights spent half dozing on the roads and wood, never really sleeping for fear of-

Arslan paused, curious to where his thoughts would take him.

- _fear of everything?_

He made small face at the thought, offended that it had come. Yes, sometimes a cold dread would rise in Arslan's chest and his mind sought the safety of the child he was. But when those moments overwhelmed him he could always quickly remember, after all these long months of hardship and struggle, how much he'd become. "Fear of losing that fight," he murmured to the open window, the ocean sparkling like white fire under a round full moon. And the possible loss of his friends. They risked everything on his side but they did not waver for a moment. Arslan felt a swell of pride at their loyalty that made him wish for their presence.

Earlier that night as he sat listening to the constant chatter of the courtesans, the young prince became slowly aware at how boring their gossip all seemed to him now. His gaze kept returning to where his companions lurked around the party’s edges, watching every door and pretending to enjoy the music. Gieve did not have to pretend actually, but even he was ignoring the coy glances he received from the curious and willing. Narsus seemed to be tolerating the thriving need for stateship gracefully and even the Lady Pharangese bore the onslaught of the court’s curiosity well instead of abandoning the whole mess to pursue her prayers.

Of course Daryun remained near him, lingering behind him on the fringe of the laughter and dancing. Tall and menacing in his black armor, his dark eyes flickering around the room in an inhuman vigilance. Arslan admired him like an imaginary hero, every feat put to a legend Arslan saw swordsman accomplishing with ease.

Daryun. Arslan paused when the name flared in his mind like warm panic.

"It is late your highness." A voice startled him out of his reverie.

There the tall warrior was, summoned on a thought. Daryun stood respectively under the great stone arch that was the door, and without question, his right hand on his sword.

Arslan felt himself smile. "Yes." He gave up trying to sort through all the lavish clothing left for him and sunk down onto his bed. "You know Daryun," Arslan began, "You would make a wonderful nanny."

Daryun returned the smile with a grin. It was small but it had an amazing effect on him, the tall warrior suddenly appeared gentle and at ease, instead of his stoic patience. "Perhaps after the wars end my lord."

Arslan laughed quietly as the night mood seemed to demand, the air too warm, the dull ocean roar drifting through it. "It feels strange sometimes now."

"What does Your Highness?"

"The attention I suppose," he made a vague gesture with one elegant white hand around the room to the golden walls and the gilded ornate furniture. "All of this."

Daryun nodded, considering the floor. "No fear, the comforts of a roadside camp will come soon enough," he shared his rare smile again. "We will all sleep better then." He stepped back prepared to leave.

Arslan felt his chest tighten at the thought of being left alone. "Daryoon?" He bit at his lower lip realizing he had nothing to ask. "Would you...would wake me early? Tomorrow?"

The man bowed. "Sleep well my lord."

**************

Daryun sat with the stillness of a statue waging the constant battle with his own exhaustion. His chair was pressed against Arslan’s door and he had waved away servants so that no one disturb the crown prince. Arslan needed to sleep soundly at least one night. Narsus had come and gone, mentioning the work he had done on his map and the growing allegiance to Arslan. Armies from far off lands were appearing every day swearing themselves to the true crown, their camps fires dotted the night like fire flies over the country side.

The weary companions were finally left some time to assemble themselves, even Gieve seemed pleased to be inside walls.

Narsus had left Daryun with a decanter of wine and a small kiss on the side of his mouth. He touched the spot with his fingertips, his mind flashing back to so long ago, before Narsus had left the court, content with solitude in the woods. His mind went back to a time when he longed for those kisses from Narsus, which came often and in much less innocence in the candle light of the Palace of Yekbatarna. Did the palace still stand? He had heard it did.

When Narsus choose his isolation, he did not only leave the royal court, he had left Daryun. So many years had dulled the hurt, until only the affection remained, leaving him glad he had that much. But the small kiss Narsus left him surprisingly did not bring the warrior to dwell on their shared past of passion and promises, it lead him somewhere much closer. Shutting his eyes, Daryun allowed himself to think about it for maybe the first time. Allowing himself to think of the prince.

Arslan.

Out of habit and unrest he had looked in on the sleeping heir twice, an unease growing despite the welcome safety Pershwa Castle brought. He had begun to stop wondering when it happened that his loyalty and love for Arslan had turned to something maybe even greater. Something beyond serving the future king, even the fate of the land was shadowed by it. He couldn’t blame duty or honor anymore, he lived for Arslan in a way he did not live for the fate of his kingdom.

The need to protect the gentle boy who had become a competent young man before his very eyes, grew to the point of pain. Arslan’s delicate nature would be so easily shattered by the cold cruelty of the assassin the world had become. His uncle had made him to believe that good always triumphed and while age had not only proven otherwise, it left bitterness at the idea.

Even Narsus, who had long ago whispered about Good to him in the middle of the night, making love to the dream that they could change anything if only they believed. When Narsus left him and the dream behind, Daryun’s bitterness had only grown only to make him numb. Arslan had made that bitterness fade into hope he thought he had lost. A cliche Daryun frown at in stories and bard’s songs. To embrace that child’s dream in Arslan embarrassed him at first. But then he saw warrior after warrior follow, seeing Arslan’s fragile presence, his incredible purpose, and to see those warriors want to die for the chance that it may come true, Daryun found he could do nothing else but do the same.

*******************

Arslan woke slowly, disoriented. A glance to the candles showed him he had barely slept an hour, the red wax not burned even a quarter down. He lay on top on the made bed clothes still wearing his riding gear.

"Hello?" Arslan ventured, unsure of what had woken him. His gaze fell to the wide window where the ocean roared below. A figure sat crouched, silhouetted by the moon light. Arslan gasped, his hand going for his sword which he had left by his bedside.

It stepped down from the window and emerged from the shadows holding out Arslan’s own glittering sword, drawn from it’s scabbard.

"Who are you?" Arslan fought to keep the fear from his voice but failed. His glanced to the distant door wondering if Daryoon would hear him if he cried out.

"No one." The man said. And he was as nondescript as his voice. Like any commoner passed on the road or brushed by in the market place. Except for maybe his size, powerfully built, but not clumsy in movement, he walked with predatory ease to the foot of the bed to stare down at Arslan with cold blank grey eyes. Arslan’s narrowed as the man drew closer into the ring of candle light, his skin was dark grey and coarse. Had he been burned?

Arslan made to move but the tip of his own sword swiftly pressed into the delicate hollow of his throat. "No." The man simply said.

"What do you want?" Arslan asked although the answer could be one of countless things considering who he was. His death could serve or hurt many.

"You must come with me." The man responded taking something out of the inside of the dark leather pouch that hung at his waist. It was a deep purple orchid. It looked as if it had been made of blood and carved of wax, its glossy petals were heavy and thick.

The young man braced himself. "I will not." His gaze going in desperation to the door beyond him. "If I shout--"

"-- it will be for the last time." He finished, pushing the tip harder for emphasis.

Arslan froze, the sting of the blade making him breath faster in fear.

The man crushed the small delicate flower in his gloved hand. "Sleep." He moved over Arslan as tried to frantically back away from under the sword, but the man was much faster.

Arslan was slammed back onto the bed, a gloved hand pressing down over his nose and mouth. The heavy scent the sickeningly sweet flower making him gag as he struggled at the weight on top of him, crushing the breath out of his body and suffocating him. The man was incredibly heavy, ignoring Arslan’s fists, the massive hard body was freakishly cold instead of warm.. But the heady scent was making him dizzy, the broad canopy that hung over the bed lurched and began to blur.

_No..._ the prince moaned in his mind, his lungs aching with every small breath he could manage; filled with the potent fumes from the hand clamped down over his mouth. In a last frantic attempt, he pushed up with all his strength and kicked out, knocking over a vase on his bedside that Elam had filled just hours ago with freshly cut flowers.

**************

The sudden sound of shattering glass, brought Daryun to the present like a slap across the face.

He rose and drew his sword in one smooth motion, his instincts taking over his body. Opening the door without knocking, a sense of dread expectation spread through him in a sickening familiar way. As comfortable as battle madness, it all slid like puzzles pieces in his mind and the exhaustion melted away into pure action. Daryun felt the sword rise to his command.

In the dim light of the sputtering candles, Arslan was sprawled on his bed while a tall massive someone stood very still at his bedside considering Daryun's entrance. The prince was limp, maybe dead. His porcelain skin was ghostly white. Daryun watched the assailant yank Arslan’s wrist, dragging him off the bed and letting him hit the floor as if the crown prince was nothing but an worthless piece of refuse.

" _Majesty!_ " The tall warrior breathed barely hearing the soft voice that came weak and confused. "Daryun..." Arslan’s large blue eyes opened in hazy confusion, tugging feebly at his trapped wrist.

"Stop." The man said. He spoke strangely, an automaton shifting the blade to press firmly on prince's sweat glazed cheek. "Or I'll take an eye.

"You arrogant _bastard._ " Daryun growled, his sword already swinging. "You will not leave here alive." Arslan was right there, only a few feet away, but impossibly far from safety. He moved forward with the ease and power of a cat, the sword sliding through the air towards the interloper’s heart.

"No." 

Daryun heard the man say the simple word as his sword suddenly met the opposite stone wall in a shower of sparks, almost jarring the hilt from his hands. _How_ \--

Before he could finish wondering anyone could have avoided his killing stroke, a blinding eruption of light filled the chamber in a boiling whirl. Sight torn from his eyes, Daryun was forced to stagger backwards against the wall furiously wiping at the tears of pain running down his sun dark face. When he could finally blink open his eyes he clutched his sword and quickly searched the clearing smoke. His breath caught in his throat. The room was empty. Glaring back in confusion to the guards that had finally reached the lonely tower room, Daryun rushed to the window and was greeted by an empty stretch of beach with the silent moon above.

The man and the crown prince were gone 

tbc


	2. The Abduction

Arslan shrugged off his worn silk tunic and stepped out of the soft leggings that pooled at his feet. "I don’t need these any more." His voice rang and clear through the crisp cold air of the concaved room.

An obsidian statue with many raised arms sat before him, three times his height and with its shining dark limbs crossed at the ankles. It regarded him silently.

"I was born once to Misra." Arslan dragged a wilted flower from his hair and snapped a delicate chain from around his neck. "These gifts are from that life." He flung them aside with a small sneer.

The colossal statue shifted its arms in a sequenced wave of mute agreement.

Arlsan stood nude before it and smiled. "I will be born again." The Crown Prince sat languidly into the cold smooth lap of the thing and lay back against one of it’s arms. "Very soon."

The many arms all suddenly came alive like serpents, reverently stroking his skin and touched his hair.

"This skin." Arlsan examined his pale hand as if for the first time. "I wish for a new skin."

The many hands fluttered to his will, and brushed his body with a dark inks, the liquid fanning viciously across his skin like blood, weaving designs delicate and simple, over his arms and across his abdomen. "I will take him with me." Arslan sighed beneath the gentle strokes. " _Daryun._ "

 

* * *

 

It was a darkness, swirling and unbearably thick. The torch Gieve managed didn’t light the passage around them as much as illuminate their faces. It was as if the light had never once touched this place at all, and battled for each inch it possessed against the omnipresent dark.

Daryun was charged with a small sense of victory. "Makra failed."

"Yes, Her attempt to do away with us fell short." Narsus observed. "Almost..." he murmured, barely heard over the sound of their progress.

"Scarcely!" Gieve snorted pointedly. "I don’t understand. This is her world, if she wanted us dead, why not do it with a thought? It doesn’t seem as if it would be a much of a problem."

Pharanguese nodded. "It would seem, but she must obey fate and chance along with the rest of us."

Narsus continued. "If she was truly all powerful she would have just taken Arslan without aid of her golem, and if Misra was the same, she would have just as easily stopped it Herself."

Gieve shrugged. "You all amaze me, after all of that you still think we have a chance."

"Of course." Daryoon said curtly, becoming uneasy.

"Look!" Elam was pointing in excitement. "What’s that ahead?"

The dark passage was coming to an end.

 

 

It was a large cavern, filled with a dim bluish light from no source any of them could determine. It seemed to emanate from the rocks themselves, and Narsus gathered a soft, faintly luminescent fungus on the end of his fingertip. "Beautiful in some ways." he said pensively.

"So they say of women," Gieve shrugged, touching the strange plant matter than covered the rock walls. "Even the most mundane have something which makes them divine." He smeared the glowing substance across his cloak. "All hogwash if you ask me."

There was a small decline from the mouth of the passage down to the cavern floor. A single narrow of grayish rock lead across the vast space and disappeared in the murk on the other side. The raised stone path was surrounded by a pitch black sea of a treacherous lazy thrash of fluid.

What they could see was likely twice the size of any battlefield.

"What is this?" Gieve asked, his voice very loud in the empty silence.

"I don’t know." Narsus walked down the small crumbling slope to the edge of the dark canal.

"Careful Narsus." Daryoon warned. The black liquid writhed and crawled as the strategist approached it.

"I would wager your uncle’s sword that is not water." Gieve said dryly.

Daryoon gave him a cold look and stepped firmly up onto the stone step testing his footing and it’s strength. "Let’s get on with it."

 

 

They walked single file along the crumbling path. Daryoon kept casting nervous glances to the churning black on either side of them, only a few feet away.

"I don't like this," Elam said nervously, voicing his disconcern for once in a long while.

"It isn’t much further." Narsus said from behind him, a steadying hand on his tiny shoulder.

"Yes Master, the water it...it just frights me."

Gieve gave a low indulgent laugh. "Water? What can it do, maybe soak us to death."

"Keep walking," Daryoon said, his nerves set on an uneven edge. He wanted off of this strange perilous bridge as soon as possible.

"Look here," Gieve picked up a stray dark stone that lay by his feet. "Completely harmless!"

Daryoon turned to see what Gieve was about to do. "Gieve don’t-"

Gieve hurled the stone into the water at an angle, probably to make it skip the coiling surface and make Elam smile. But the stone struck the water’s oily surface and was caught. The ooze enveloped it quickly. All at once the slow rolling surface became agitated and turbulent.

"Quickly!" Pharangese urged them from the very back. "Just a few more--"

Suddenly the black substance coiled out like a whip and latched with a shrill hiss onto Pharanguese’s arm.

She gasped in alarm and drew her sword.

"My Lady!" Gieve’s blade contacted the tendril and sank through it only to emerge from the other side with no effect. Several more ropes of the oily slick hissed out with surprising quickness and coiled around her neck and leg. She stumbled towards the waiting hungry pool below. Elam dashed to her side and put himself between her and the black mire, straining with all his strength.

"The blade!" Daryoon panted in effort, trying to keep her on the rocky path. "It did nothing!"

Narsus deflected two new coils with his sword that leapt toward her only to have them slither around him. "Gieve! Your torch!"

Gieve released his grasp from the Priestess to pick up the fallen torch, and pressed it into the masses of inky tendrils that were dragging her over the side.

Nothing.

Daryoon suddenly saw the flash of the symbol of Misra that lay around her neck. Without thinking of his own actions, he ripped the chain from the Priestess’s neck and thrust the chain and symbol deep into the sluggish black mess that moved hungrily over her. There was an audible shriek and the oily muck suddenly shrank, springing back as if in horror, it began to whip back into it’s pool as fast it had come.

But Elam was in the way.

"Elam!" Narsus gasped.

Elam tumbled backwards with a frightened cry, knocked over by the retreating black tendrils. To the horror of all present, he plunged into the inky water with a dull heavy splash.

Narsus lunged through them, landing hard on the path’s edge, and grabbed Elam’s arm. "I’ve got you!"

But the water would not give up its prey. For as soon as he began to pull the coughing boy to safety, the oily mass vibrated and roiled, pulling them both under with terrifying speed.

"Narsus!" Daryoon grasped him across the waist and felt Gieve and the Lady anchor him even further. Narsus disappeared up to his shoulders.

Daryoon groaned bracing himself with every once of strength he possessed, trying to keep Narsus from slipping out of his hands and into the abyss. Then all of a sudden the pull disappeared and with a jolt, Daryoon flew backwards with Narsus on top of him.

Narsus’s arms were empty.

They were all silent for a moment, panting in disbelief. But then Narsus lunged forward as if to jump into the water after the boy.

"No Narsus." Daryoon hissed breathlessly, keeping a strong grip that was still around his waist and shoulders.

Narsus struggled to free himself from the warrior one last time. "He-"

"He is gone."

Narsus said nothing.

They all stood up and continued on their way, none of them looking down into the black water as they went. The slow boil of it’s surface returned, and like a gratified beast, it slept.

 

* * *

 

They were consumed. Daryoon could barely place another foot in front of the other. The small flame he had cherished since their escape from the wall of water sent by Makra to halt them, was now cold and dead. None of them had said a word since the narrow stone bridge. The vast chamber had finally given way to another narrow winding passage that showed no sign of ending. He looked sadly over his shoulder to Narsus. Narsus looked as Daryoon could never remember him being in all of the turbulent days and uncertain nights. The elegant confidence was missing, he looked defeated and even worse, lost.

"We should sleep while we can."

"I’ll take watch." Gieve said solemnly. "If I hadn’t been such a fool-"

"Stop." Daryoon said curtly, his sense of duty surging through his weariness even as his body begged to sag to the cold uneven ground and rest. Gieve’s mouth worked in frustration that Daryoon knew all too well. Gieve had tossed the stone into the dark waters but Daryoon hadn’t taken a moment to consider that Gieve may find himself at fault. "Two hours, I will take watch." He couldn’t quell Gieve’s doubts now, he didn’t have it in him to even try. Harm would befall them regardless of caution, and what Gieve did or didn’t do would not change that. Elam should have never journeyed with them, and if it hadn’t happened on the narrow stone bridge it was more than likely to happen somewhere else. This land was no place for a child no matter how clever.

Daryoon gritted his teeth and forced his thoughts away from what he should or should not have done. How could he possibly lighten Gieve’s spirit when his own was so heavy with now not one, but two losses?

"Get some sleep." He managed softly, and put a firm hand on the archer’s shoulder.

When was the last time any of them had slept? One weary glance at his companions and he felt his need to close his eyes pass quickly. They sat one by one onto the ground, strong warriors each were casting fearful looks to every shadow, their eyes hard, their movements slowed by exhaustion.

Gieve wrapped himself in his cloak and leaned against the passage wall. "Wake me in an hour Daryoon, you need sleep just like the rest of us mortals." Gieve settled down as comfortably as he could, one hand laying in wait on his sword.

The Priestess looked at Daryoon in silent thanks, and then to Narsus in undisguised sorrow. Narsus was turned away from them both using slow determined movements to pull his cloak around his shoulders and find sleep.

Daryoon sat in the center of the passage determined to watch over them.

 

* * *

 

"Daryoon?" The voice was soft so as to not disturb the precarious hold on sleep that the others found.

The sound startled him.

Daryoon shook himself, and breathed in deeply. Had he been dozing off? He looked to Pharanguese and Gieve and nothing had changed. His mind was wandering in the silence and the steady cadence of numbers he used to determine the sluggish passage of time.

"You should use this time to rest Narsus." Daryoon said shortly. If he said any more he was fearful his voice might waver or crack.

Narsus moved to his side, his face pale and drawn. His voice was tired and almost angry. "I know how you feel now."

Daryoon looked at him sharply.

"Losing what you are responsible for." Narsus explained.

The words stung sharper than Daryoon was prepared for. He looked down and away his face burning with shame.

"Should we go on like this?" Narsus asked him softly. "Keep going until one by one we are dead?"

Daryoon couldn’t stand to look Narsus in the eyes. "Yes, if that is what it takes."

Narsus’s light touch was on his shoulder. "Will you take all of us to our deaths, because of your one great failure?"

He felt his vision blur as he stared down hard at the ground. "I-"

"Quiet Daryoon. Quiet." Narsus told him, his voice going so soft, and the weight of head resting on Daryoon’s shoulder. "How could have you possibly known what we had to overcome here?"

"Narsus-"

"How could you have known you would have been defeated so quickly?"

"N-Narsus-"

"We should have never come." Narsus’s light touch became firm, almost desperate. "It’s not too late. We can leave this place before we meet Elam's fate."

Daryoon was silent. Narsus's persuasion was exquisite. It wasn’t too late. They could call back the forces that sent them here and return home before Pharanguese was too weak or even dead.

"We can leave, my friend." Narsus told him.

Daryoon wanted to collapse in his arms like a child and beg for his forgiveness. First Arslan, and then Elam, it was all his fault if not in one way then another. They trusted him and followed where he lead. How many more failures could he endure before he snapped into pieces?

"We can leave before you’ve killed us all." Narsus said and stroked his hair. "She is too powerful and too clever. She wants us to chase our tails, she wants to be amused by our efforts. Do you not see?"

Daryoon’s mind was racing. What if all of this was a trap? What if all they had done was to keep them busy elsewhere while Makra went on without them. What if Makra wanted them to stay? What if she wanted them to come here in the first place? Daryoon groaned as his thoughts turned in on themselves, his clear path turning complex and confused.

"Shhh Daryoon." Narsus pulled the Warrior to him in an embrace. "If you have ever listened to my words before don’t doubt me now."

He felt the first warm flare of anger towards his friend and tried to ignore it. Angry at Narsus? That was just simple truth. His failure, his failures. Maybe there was another way. If they left maybe their was some other way to do battle with Makra from the living world? Maybe their journey here was to destroy them when they should be waging war on the mortal plain?

"Yes. There is another way Daryoon, we were so pompous to think we could walk into Her world and win."

Daryoon’s thoughts stopped as he felt his skin go cold.

Narsus did not pause in his gentle stroke. "We have been defeated and it is time we gave up."

_He read my thoughts. How did he read my thoughts?_ Daryoon forced vivid images of his anger unleashed on Makra in bloodshed and rage. The reflections of horror flowed after the initial hesitation to invite a nightmare. Daryoon conjured the devastation Makra promised. What use would his service be to Misra if he died before the armies had even amassed to shoot the first arrow?

"You will still have your war." Narsus assured him.

Daryoon pushed Narsus away staring hard into Narsus’s face, waiting for the shock, or the anger at his violence.

Narsus did neither. "When will you stop this insane quest? Why don’t you cut my throat right now?" He ripped his cloak away and bared his throat to him.

Daryoon looked around frantically, his warriors hands unsteady on the hilt of his sword. His eyes narrowed. "What, are you mad Narsus?"

"Mad? No, for the first time I know when to acquiesce. Is it not time you learned?" The corner of his mouth curled in disgust

Daryoon shook his head unwilling to yield to the calm logic he normally committed to without question. "I do not know where this treachery stems from Narsus, but as I live I will not abide by it." Something was terribly wrong.

Narsus stood facing him. "I was very close to convincing you." The man's face began to shift like water. "You would have done well to have obeyed me."

He backed away in horror as Narsus’s entire body rippled and settled into a black shape with red fire for eyes and a gaping jagged mouth. The horrible visage rippled again only to settle into the form of a man child, his skin tinged blue and his hair pale white.

_Very well Daryoon, by all means continue._

 

 

Daryoon’s eyes opened and he sat up in a sudden jerk, his body soaked in a clammy cold sweat. "Narsus." He swung his head into the passage where Narsus had been standing. But he wasn’t there, he was still laying where Daryoon’s vigil had last left him.

He stood half panicked with confusion. Pharanguese and Gieve were undisturbed by his movement, tired enough and too deep in the sleep of exhaustion. But Narsus was moaning softly and had tossed away his cloak in his agitation.

"Narsus?" Daryoon knelt by him in alarm. "Wake up!" Narsus’s skin was warm to the touch and glazed with sweat.

" _Daryoon,_ " Narsus mumbled somewhere far deep within his dreams. " _Dar-_ "

"Narsus!" He forced the other man to sit up and shook him violently. 

Narsus awoke with a ragged gasp and a shaken look in his eyes. 

Daryoon searched his face anxiously. "It was a conjury Narsus," He explained, "We were dreaming." Daryoon felt a bolt of uncontrollable anger soak through his body. "She can enter our dreams, She, She-" 

"Daryoon." Narsus lay a trembling hand on the warrior’s face in a disturbing echo of his actions while Daryoon had lay sleeping only moments before. "I knew it could not be you to say those things..." 

"She wants me to give up." Daryoon stammered. "I fell to sleep and you told me I should just give up." He was aware somehow that he was making very little sense but the words came with his outrage and his nervous exhaustion. 

Narsus’s startled face turned thoughtful. "She wants us to leave." 

Daryoon was aware that the others had woken at the sound of their voices. "We must be close." He released Narsus and began to collect what little he had. Action and motion kept him from thinking about what had seemed so real and the lingering shame that was as genuine as the tears that threatened and burned at his eyes. He ignored the confused look in Gieve’s eyes and the open question that was on the Priestess’s lips. 

Narsus stood and placed a hand on his arm to stop him. "The things She said," Narsus squeezed Daryoon’s forearm hard. "They are things she knows weaken us." 

"Enough." 

"Never for one moment did I or will I ever blame you." Narsus simply said. 

Daryoon was nearly at the end of his frayed rope. "Damn it all! What difference does it make? Elam-" 

"The difference is that she cannot stop us." Narsus simply said. "It was her last best attempt Daryoon. There’s nothing left to stop us except Makra Herself." 

Trial by water, trial by darkness, trial by fear? Narsus was right, She had exhausted Her tricks and they had come so far. 

Daryoon could only trust his tongue enough to be silent as he waited for them to collect themselves. And as they moved forward into the darkness he wondered what Narsus had been told in his dream. What had his phantom shadow said to Narsus? And why had he been forgiven so easily? 

* * * 

The darkness here had a character of its own. The weak phosphorescence Pharangese could provide was no match for the miles and miles of unending night, the overwhelming uncertainty of their destination. There was dwindling air, uncertain space and little time. He thought he could feel the fluttering of the Lady's cloak as she walked before him, Narsus at his back and Gieve taking up the rear. Only the mingled footsteps and determined breaths of his companions brought him a comfort of sorts. 

"Stay close." 

It was Pharangese’s voice just a few feet before him striding into the darkness fearlessly. The light that clung to her wavered and dimmed. 

"Pharangese!" Daryoon groped blindly in the darkness, lunging wildly forward, searching for the cloak, but he touched nothing. The light was gone. 

"My lady!" Gieve's panicked voice surged from behind, stumbling into him. "Where are you?" 

"Gieve!" Daryoon shouted, holding his arm out to prevent Gieve from running into the same darkness that had swallowed the lady. 

"There, she is ahead!" Narsus's voice seemed to come from a few feet away, but hollow as if he stood behind a wall. "Daryoon, where are you?" 

"Here!" Daryoon growled, plunging forth into the darkness. 

"Daryoon?" Gieve's voice receded, then faded. 

The warrior cursed. "By the Goddess!" His fist hardened in the dark. "Gieve?" 

There was no reply. Was this some method Makra wanted to use to divide them? Let her, he was ready. Faintly Daryoon heard his name spoken like a whisper from far away lucky to have been caught on the wind. "My Lady?" 

The voice urged him forward through the black growing stronger when he felt he had lost it, and growing softer when he moved quickly and sure even with his sight taken. It was a long while before Daryoon realized that the uniform void had begin to turn to a shade of warm candle light. He found himself not in the company of his friends whose voices had urged and pulled him all this while, but instead into a deep well of a chamber surrounded by thick ebony columns that glistened with the caverns condensation. 

Daryoon stepped uncertainly onto the glossy dark surface of the floor, his sword slipping slowly from it’s scabbard as he scanned the room. 

His heart stilled for a moment in his chest. The room was empty save for a hideous statue that sat opposite of him, no more than twenty steps and Daryoon would be able to touch it. 

But in the arms of the thing lay the object of their long search. The Crown Prince at last was found. 

* * * 

Narsus stumbled out of the darkness and collapsed against the ragged stone passage wall. The gloom that seeped around him had made it hard to breathe. He looked around hoping to see one of the others. 

And then there it was. A faint call that echoed against the stone and reached him. It was Gieve. Narsus headed towards the source of it, confident he would find them all. The strange heavy dread Makra had held over their spirits seemed as if it had vanished, the darkness that had confounded him seemed desperate. Feeling closer to the end of their destination than he had ever felt before, Narsus pressed on to finish it. 

* * * 

"Daryoon!" Arslan stood with his arms out in disbelief and his eyes glittering with tears. 

"Highness." The warrior breathed unwilling to trust his eyes. At first he thought the Crown Prince was wearing something black and a deep blue that fit close to his skin but then he realized with a slow moving dread that he was mistaken. It was paint. The Prince was nude. 

"I am so glad to see you Daryoon!" Arslan sighed not moving from his place before the warped statue. 

His emotions rubbed raw, Daryoon almost sobbed in confusion. "My Prince? We must leave-" 

"Come sit by me Daryoon?" Arslan sat down in the lap of the many armed statue. "I have so much to tell you." He smiled warmly. "We have much to plan. Tell me, where are the others?" 

After all this time, Daryoon could walk a few feet to touch Arslan but Arslan was further from him than had ever been. Daryoon stood very still, his grip trembling on the hilt. "You have been treated well your Majesty?" 

"Oh yes." Arslan lay back into a obsidian arm and his smile disappeared. "It would displease me to hear you use that tone any further Daryoon. It is unforgivable to suggest otherwise." 

His throat felt dry. "You seem changed my Lord." 

"Do I?" The smile came back but it was detached and vacant. He idly stroked the smooth stone arm that supported him. "But my mind has never been more clear." 

Daryoon turned his head slightly to either side of him, the overwhelming sense of another presence, a fiercely malevolent force seemed to flow through the rock itself. The air was charged with it. Like the damp thick before a storm or the heat that came like waves off of men in battle well into the madness. But the chamber was deserted. 

Except for the Prince. 

And the statue. 

Daryoon eyes traveled up the shiny surface of the thing and up to it’s massive misshapen head. 

It was looking down at him. And it was smiling. 

* * * 

He was at the heart of it. He was there. 

Daryoon wasn’t sure how long he sat slumped against the base of the statue. His mind went in and out of focus, returning to him some sense of alarm and a dull urgent sense of something he was supposed to be doing. It was good that he had found the Prince, and had found him safe. Surely that was what nagged at the corners of his mind? He pushed it away, and let his thoughts be carried where Arslan brought them. He would not leave his side again. He heard Arslan’s voice drifting around him telling him about the war that was coming. It was a grand war, and Daryoon would have much to do to organize the armies Arslan promised. 

"Oh!" Arslan mentioned almost casually. "A life shall ensure your loyalty should you have any quandaries regarding your duties." 

Daryoon looked up and up. For one small moment he felt wonder and relief but it was swept away with Arslan’s words. "It has been so very long that the Goddess was honored by the blood of a child." 

It was Elam that hung by his wrists from one motionless arm, a crude leather strap in his mouth. Arslan let the back of his hand run down Elam’s tear stained cheek and then looked to Daryoon. Elam whimpered, his bruised wrists twisted in their binds. His frightened eyes looked to Daryoon in confusion. Whatever Elam saw in the Warrior’s face caused more tears. 

"She gave him to me but I’d rather you do it Daryoon." He smiled warmly and patiently. "It will bind you to my purpose." He knelt beside the warrior and pressed his mouth to his. "Forever." 

Daryoon opened his mouth to Arslan and felt a sublime peace. The delicate pale hands of his Prince held his face as the kiss went on and on. Daryoon felt the world spin away and his cares went with it. Elam’s death was a very small deed to do for the Crown Prince. He would happily do anything he was asked. 

Arslan withdrew, biting at his lower lip. "You will be my greatest strength Daryoon." He breathed. "You will be at my side and we shall rule the world." 

The statue writhed and twisted it’s obscene limbs around like a sea flower. Daryoon experienced a perfect understanding, clarity reaching him in his daze of the power that ebbed and flowed around him. Makra was in the statue, Makra was in the walls themselves. She was on the steady wind and she was the black water that crashed on Her shores. They were enveloped within her as if in the womb. Why did they ever try to withstand her might? It was an honor to be welcomed by her finally, and Daryoon kissed Arslan back violently knowing she was in him as well. He wanted to hear her sigh in the air that hung around them in anticipation. 

Daryoon wanted to make elaborate pledges to him, and assure Her of his unwavering loyalty but all he could manage was a vague nod. Then something caught his blurred gaze. It was Narsus. And behind him was Gieve, along with the Priestess. 

It was good that the others finally arrived. The Warrior’s head rolled to the side to look at them. It was all the will left to him. He wanted to speak and tell them they had much to do and they should help him up. Arslan was still talking and seemed not to notice that they stood in the far off passage. The very same passage Daryoon had stood in when he arrived. 

"Daryoon." Pharanguese said softly in a disbelieving voice. 

Arslan’s steady speech abruptly stopped. 

"Stand up Daryoon." Arslan said. 

All at once the Warrior felt his mind clear and the heavy weighty fog that bound him immobile evaporated. He watched his hand close on the hilt of his sword as if something had taken hold of his own being like a puppet with strings. He watched in wonder as the glimmering sheen of his blade hissed out of it’s scabbard and poised forward. 

Arslan’s voice was very low. "Bring me that Priestess’s head." 

"Yes your Highness." 

Daryoon charged, energy shifting through him like water over an edge, flowing down in violence to thunder at the base of his body. 

Gieve was suddenly before him. "Stop!" 

His sword met his and with power Daryoon knew was not his own, Gieve’s blade was shattered like glass. The useless hilt flew out of the archers grasp and was hurled against the stone wall with such force it made sparks. 

Gieve collapsed to his knees clutching his wounded hand. Daryoon moved to deliver the final stroke but his way was blocked. Narsus was there, his eyes narrowed and his sword flying down in a deadly arc. 

The Priestess called out as Narsus’s sword met and shattered Daryoon’s breast plate at the shoulder. Metal clashed and rang, until their blades were locked, Narsus slowly began to tremble from the force of it, his mortal strength barely a match to the power that was bestowed into his foe’s form. 

"-Listen-" Narsus gasped, their faces only inches apart. "In the dream Makra gave me, you told me- you told me that you never had love for me." 

Daryoon blinked at him, his forward strain to annihilate the strategist ebbing. 

"I knew that it wasn’t true Daryoon." He said to him almost sadly. "I knew Makra failed because she was foolish enough-" Narsus stumbled backwards but kept his footing, Daryoon’s sword slid forward. The warrior heard the tense voices of the others, their warnings and concern. It was obvious the fight was going to be over very soon. "-she was so foolish to believe I could be made to doubt you." 

"Silence!" Daryoon’s head was swimming, he wanted to have done with this business. The Prince was waiting for him- 

"Remember!" Narsus demanded. "Why are we here!" 

Daryoon groaned as his thoughts spun out of control, his mind fought the onslaught. There had been something terribly important, something vital... 

"Arlsan!" Narsus managed even as he fell to his knees, the sword buckling under the enhanced strength. "You had done it, you _found_ him."

Daryoon’s killing stroke stilled in mid air, a hairs breath from Narsus’s heaving chest. Arslan. They had been searching for him... 

A soft white light pulsed. 

Daryoon fell to his knees in a daze. "What-?" 

Pharanguese stepped forward. "Makra’s hold on you is gone." 

"I wish you hadn’t done that." Arslan stood with a delicate scowl on his face. 

Narsus helped Daryoon to his feet with a small smile on his face. His gaze shifted towards Arslan and Elam, his look hardened. "If you have harmed him Highness-" Narsus began angrily. 

Arslan was frowning. " _Be quiet._ " He ordered in disgust. "All of you will serve me as I wish it. It is an honor to be bled for Her." 

Narsus was about to speak when Daryoon stopped him. "Don’t." The warrior said, pressing his hand over his wounded shoulder with a wince. 

"I see." Pharanguese said grimly. She stepped forward. "I have no choice." With one movement, she shrugged off her cloak in a graceful flair and steadied her sword before her. She addressed the Crown Prince. "My Lord, we have come to late. Makra has ensnared you. I as a Priestess of Misra have committed myself to your return." 

Arslan regarded her with surprise. "You will die trying." 

> Pharanguese nodded. "Perhaps." She drew her sword and room filled with a pearly light that glinted off it’s edges like morning sunlight. 

_Wait._

A pale skinned boy emerged from the shadows that lingered and slithered behind the grotesque statue. 

_I smell a Priestess. I have not smelled the rot of one for many centuries._

"Finally you reveal yourself." She said, her steel gray eyes locked on the seemingly frail form. 

_What makes you think little Priestess, that you, could ever harm me?_

All at once the colors and shapes in the room shifted as if the reality around them had been pierced. Daryoon looked up fearfully, the air around him swept away, and the vague light suddenly splintered with a deafening boom, turning into jagged bright tears all around them. What was Makra doing? He looked to the boy that burned with Makra’s essence and instead of fury and promise, he saw something shocking. 

_Fear._

The light swirled around Pharanguese’s form, the shine pouring into every detail of her body, running like molten light across her face, into her eyes. It reached to an unbearable brightness, forcing Daryoon to throw his arms up over his eyes. 

It subsided, leaving Pharanguese in a steady pulse. Her features were lost to the uniform light that had enveloped her. 

Makra stumbled back, eyes glowing in rancid purple loathing. 

The elegant form, now made ethereal with divine light held out her sword, dripping with white fire. **But I will.**

Daryoon felt his mouth fall open. Makra had taken the boy Priest’s body as her vessel. Now her sister Goddess had taken Pharanguese as hers. 

Misra had arrived. 

to be concluded...


End file.
